no one knows what consciousness means, how it works, how it came to be, what its relationship to the universe is. talking heads will tell us they know. how easy it is to say 'i know' and then spout some kind of explanation which at first blush wears a cloak of understanding. but parse the explanation down and you will find the foundations underpinning the understanding rest entirely on faith, on belief.
the human mind is beautiful and resourceful. even if we don't know what we're talking about, we talk anyways. i'm no different. in biking in search of self i set out to track down a general understanding of what consciousness meant. in my research i found not one, but hundreds of meanings. what's more, they all seemed somehow right.
that gave me the chutzpah to create my own perception of consciousness. since i believe the gluon of human culture is metaphor/allegory/anaology, that's what i used as my vehicle. i began by biking in the external world, gradually making my way through common conceptions of consciousness, until eventually i biked to the internal world where consciousness really exists. i found adventure, insight, understanding, until at the end, coming home through a blizzard and looking into a mirror, i discovered i was consciousness all along. and i still didn't know what it meant.